Shisui caught snippets of conversation from the crowd:
"Did the Ito Family get the plot on the east end?"
"Yes! The soil's a bit poor, but the officials said they'll send people next year to teach us about fertilizer. It'll surely be better than being tenant farmers for the lords!"
"My wife's illness is much better, thanks to the medicine from the Land of Stars's Medical-Nin..."
"I heard the mines provide three full meals a day, plus pay! It's just hard work..."
"Those damned nobles finally got what they deserved!"
Their words were filled with hope for the future, satisfaction with the present, and a deep-seated resentment toward the old noble rule, mixed with a cautious acceptance of the new order.
Life was still hard, the work just beginning, but something named 'hope' was undeniably taking root in this long-suffering soil.
Shisui stood silently among them, his transplanted Sharingan capturing every minute detail, every expression.
He saw busyness and fatigue, but more than that, he saw a look in their eyes… the look of people freed from heavy chains, still disoriented but filled with a driving energy.
He remembered Menma's words: "...go see the changes happening on that land... see if those people, freed from noble oppression, wear more pain or more hope on their faces."
The answer was now clear.
The 'war' and 'conquest' as he understood them seemed to bring only ruin and suffering.
What the Land of Stars was doing felt more like a harsh but necessary surgery, cutting out a festering tumor.
The process was bloody, but it was swiftly followed by the sowing of new seeds upon the scorched earth.
A profound sense of impact shook Shisui's long-held beliefs.
For the first time, he saw so clearly that peace might not be achieved solely by maintaining the status quo.
Shattering the old, rotten framework might indeed pave the way for a fairer, more vibrant new order.
He observed, he listened, he pondered, walking the muddy streets of New Star Town.
His Sharingan passively recorded every detail, belying the turmoil within.
Strolling along the slightly muddy paths, Shisui's gaze was drawn to a camp at the settlement's edge, marked by a prominent red cross.
It was a medical station, far larger than he had anticipated.
A network of simple but sturdy tents was organized into clear sections: triage, pharmacy, recovery. Long lines of sick or ragged people waited, yet the order was remarkably calm.
Their faces showed the weariness of illness and hardship, but their eyes lacked the profound numbness and despair he associated with refugees. Instead, he saw a pressing urgency to be treated and return to building their new lives.
On one side, several Medical-Nin in Star flak jackets were hard at work, diagnosing patients, performing Mystical Palm Techniques, green Chakra glowing at their fingertips.
Further out, dozens of special medicine pots simmered over simple stoves, filling the air with a rich, herbal scent. Volunteers in white coats, directed by a Medical-Nin, carefully tended the fires and poured the decoction into clay bowls.
Shisui's eyes scanned the camp and paused on a sunny, open area at its center.
A few chairs were set up there. Several Star Ninjas, still bandaged and clearly injured, were lounging in them, soaking up the afternoon sun.
Some chatted quietly, others rested with eyes closed, one was clumsily trying to turn the page of a book on his lap with his good hand.
A strong sense of dissonance struck Shisui.
He knew battlefields. He knew the wounded.
In Konoha, even the most elite Ninja, returning from a brutal campaign, carried a certain look in their eyes… a lingering exhaustion, a startled wariness, a hidden violence. It was the brand of war seared into the soul, a psychological shadow hard to dispel.
But these Star Ninja before him... their expressions were relaxed, their eyes clear, almost... peaceful? Content?
As if they hadn't just been through a life-or-death struggle, but merely a physically demanding chore.
This mental state was completely alien to his understanding of 'combat veterans'.
As he stood pondering, a cheerful voice called out beside him.
"Hey! If it isn't Shisui-san! What brings you out here by yourself?"
Shisui turned to see Hotarubi approaching with two other Star Ninjas, escorting a truck laden with sacks that smelled freshly of herbs.
Hotarubi's face was lightly sheened with sweat, but his smile was bright. He too wore the Star flak jacket, looking fit and capable.
"Hotarubi-sensei," Shisui greeted with a nod, his gaze drifting back to the sunbathing wounded.
Hotarubi followed his look and understanding dawned, "Ah, the [Black Rat] team guys. They tangled with some Rogue Ninja during the last mop-up of the Land of Darkness's Daimyo's loyalists. Got banged up. Healing well, though."
Shisui hesitated a moment, but his curiosity won out. He gestured toward the group, his tone genuinely perplexed, "Hotarubi-sensei, forgive my forwardness. I've been observing your comrades here. They seem..."
"They've recently seen combat, their injuries aren't fully healed, yet their mental state... it's very different from any wounded I've encountered before. It's as if they carry little of the psychological stress of war. Why is that?"
"Psychological stress?" Hotarubi blinked, then scratched his short, bristly hair thoughtfully, "Oh, you mean that... the nightmares after battle, being quick to anger, afraid to return to the front, in bad cases even their Chakra goes haywire... 'war sickness', right?"
"That's one way to put it," Shisui agreed.
Hotarubi sent his companions ahead to help unload, then stood beside Shisui, his gaze also turning toward the recuperating ninja, growing more distant.
"That... was common in the old villages. Especially after the big wars, the hospitals were never short of Ninjas like that." Hotarubi's voice softened slightly, "But here in the Land of Stars, it's much rarer. Especially among Ninjas who actively chose to join our cause. It almost never happens."
"Why is that?" Shisui pressed.
Hotarubi turned to face him, his expression earnest and direct, "Because the belief is different, Shisui-san."
"You Ninja from the old era fought for your village, for missions, for orders, sometimes even for revenge. The purpose was sometimes vague, sometimes narrow, sometimes you probably doubted it yourselves. The killing, the destruction, losing comrades... all that darkness piles up with no outlet, no solid foundation to fall back on. Of course it can break a person."
He raised a hand, gesturing to the bustling activity around them… the people waiting for medicine, the construction sounds in the distance.
"But we Star Ninja, at least most of us who stay and believe in Shura-sama's path, we know exactly why we fight."
"From your view, the Land of Stars started a war, invaded the Land of Swamps, Land of Darkness, and Land of Snow. But look. Look at them…" Hotarubi's hand swept over the thin, hopeful faces of the refugees, "Before we came, what was their life? Starvation, cold, exploited and trampled by the nobles, treated like animals. A single bad season could lead to... unthinkable things. It was the greed and incompetence of the Daimyos and lords that pushed their own people into hell first!"
His voice gained a firm intensity, "What we brought wasn't destruction. It was liberation. It was taking out the trash! War is unavoidable, the pain of bloodshed is real, but we know who that blood is for. We know what future we're fighting for."
Hotarubi tapped his own chest, "We Star Ninja, aside from a few from allied clans, most of us started as ordinary people. Refugees, orphans from the very bottom of every nation! We know the taste of hunger and cold, the sting of having no dignity, better than anyone!"
"We don't fight to continue hatred. We fight to end this old era that creates endless hatred! So that everyone can have enough to eat, clothes to wear, a roof over their head. So no more kids have to suffer like we did, like so many did, as pawns in someone else's war!"
He paused, his tone softening but losing none of its conviction, "When you know that every swing of your blade, every shuriken you throw, is clearing a path for that... it fills you with a strength that leaves no room for emptiness or fear. The scars of battle are still there, but we feel they are worth it. Seeing these people find life again... that's the best medicine any of us could ask for."
Shisui listened in silence, his Sharingan absorbing every nuance of sincerity on Hotarubi's face.
He looked around once more.
He saw the wounded Ninja with the book smile shyly as a little girl placed a wildflower on his lap.
He saw an old man carefully hand a bowl of medicine to a coughing woman, muttering, "Drink up, you'll get better... the Land of Stars's medicine works... there's finally some hope in this world..."
He saw children who had just received new, thick coats chasing each other, their faces flushed with a healthy color, free from hunger and cold.
All of it, woven together with Hotarubi's words, formed a powerful current, relentlessly washing against the walls of Shisui's understanding.
The peace he had always sought was about protecting the village, preventing conflict between the Uchiha Clan and Konoha Village, gaining recognition for his clan within the existing system to mend internal divisions.
He had never considered that peace might be achieved through another, more radical, more thorough method.
Shattering every unjust structure of the old world and building a new order from the rubble.
What the Land of Stars was doing was undoubtedly drenched in blood and violence. Yet, its result here was the birth of a shocking vitality and hope.
This stark contrast plunged Shisui into deep contemplation.
The [Gem] he protected, the Village he cherished… what was their true essence?
Was it to preserve an established, possibly rotting system? Or was it to protect the actual, living people within it?
Shisui suddenly recalled a phrase Menma had once uttered: 'The peace you seek is too narrow... too narrow to accommodate a single rebellious clan.'
Hotarubi did not interrupt his silence, simply standing beside him.
The sunlight poured down, illuminating the red cross of the medical camp, etching the peaceful faces of the wounded, the hopeful eyes of the refugees, and the rising outlines of new buildings deep into Shisui's Sharingan, and deeper still into his heart.
This newly broken ground was healing physical wounds, quietly soothing mental scars, and, in the process, silently reshaping a genius Ninja from the old era's understanding of the 'path'.
The warm spring breeze brushed past, carrying the scent of thawing earth and new growth, mixed with the smell of herbs from the camp. It rustled the hair on Shisui's forehead, as if urging him toward a choice.
His doubts were not fully erased, especially his apprehension about a future clash between the Land of Stars and Konoha Village.
But he was beginning to understand, and even, in some small way, to acknowledge, the controversial, potentially transformative path chosen by Shura and the Land of Stars.